His Memories, Her Feelings
by Queen Of The Void
Summary: Peeta is hijacked, right? All until one morning, when Katniss finally vents her thoughts about the current events, Peeta finally regains his memories, and thoughts, of Katniss. Which sets off a whole different course to the war with Snow. Will Katniss and Peeta make it through this? Set during Mockingjay, contains spoilers. In progress!
1. We All Fall Down

After about an hour, Peeta speaks up. "These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you. "Trying to decide whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth." That seems grossly unfair, and my first impulse is to say something cutting. But I revisit my conversation with Haymitch and try to take the first tentative step in Peeta's direction. "I never wanted to kill you. Except when I thought you were helping the Careers kill me. After that, I always thought of you as . . . an ally." That's a good safe word. Empty of any emotional obligation, but nonthreatening.

"Ally," Peeta says the word slowly, tasting it

. "Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancée. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I'll add it to the list of words I use to try and figure you out." He weaves the rope in and out of his fingers. "The problem is, I can't tell what's real anymore, and what's made up."

The cessation of rhythmic breathing suggests that either people have woken or really have never been asleep at all. I suspect the latter. Finnick's voice rises from a bundle in the shadows.

"Then you should ask, Peeta. That's what Annie does." Finnick suggests.

"Ask who?" Peeta says. "Who can I trust?"

"Well, us for starters. We're your squad," says Jackson.

"You're my guards," He points out.

"That, too," she says.

"But you saved a lot of lives in Thirteen. It's not the kind of thing we forget." She says, a tone of finality obvious in her voice.

In the quiet that follows, I try to imagine not being able to tell illusion from reality. Not knowing if Prim or my mother loved me. If Snow was my enemy. If the person across the heater saved or sacrificed me. With very little effort, my life rapidly morphs into a nightmare. I suddenly want to tell Peeta everything about who he is, and who I am, and how we ended up here. But I don't know how to start. Worthless. I'm worthless. At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again.

"Your favorite color . . . it's green?"

"That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange." I say.

"Orange?" He seems unconvinced.

"Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once."

"Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you."

But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces." Then I realize I'm crying. I know I shouldn't be crying, but more tears come down, and now I'm bawling, my voice sounding like a broken wheeze of an old train.

Peeta sits there planted on the ground like a statue, staring wide-eyed at me. For a second I wonder if he'll lunge at me.

I sound insane. And I think everyone else here does too. My cheeks heat up, and I feel like running away into the woods. Maybe I should. Running away is something I'm good at. But I've made so many promises, and I owe too much. My brain feels like it's on overdrive, thoughts pouring out of the darkest corners of my mind, making my mouth work at the same pace.

"You're just... Peeta. That's exactly who you are," I take a deep breath, and I know more words are fueling up into my mind.

"Snow took _The Peeta_ away from me. But he didn't just take you. He took everything. He stole people. And he wrecked lives. And I'm not going to sit here and let him continue this." I chant, the words spilling out like a fractured prayer. A sliver of hope.

If everyone in a mile radius isn't up by now, they're either dead, or pretending.

"Snow, or anyone else from the Capitol- We will not stand down! We are the revolution, and we will take back what is rightfully ours, and do you know what that is?" I cry out, my voice cracking. I'm standing up now, my arms raised like a warrior.

The others are staring at me thoughtfully, like gazing at a shiny new toy. I feel powerful, like I could storm into the Capitol right now.

"It is our _freedom_!" I finish, the final words ringing out like a bell.

People are clapping. Everyone but Peeta.

"Katniss." He whispers, standing up by me, the dirt falling off of his pants like water.

I raise an eyebrow, nodding to answer him. My voice is suddenly gone, and I swallow hard.

"That was beautiful. It sounds just like you. Like the old Katniss." He states, the sound of his voice is gravelly, like he's trying not to yell.

I gape. The old Katniss? Does this mean he remembers something? That maybe... His memories have come back.

"Explain what the old Katniss is." I demand. I'm never taking any chances now. I've learned my lesson.

Peeta looks pained, grabbing for something he's not sure about. "L-Like-" He stutters, and my eyes widen slightly.

"The old you. You're not the same. A harder, colder version of yourself. But I still love you. And now I'm not sure what I'm saying, but I'm getting all these weird flashbacks, and Katniss-" He stops short, sinking to his knees in the cold dirt. Peeta's face is pale. And he doesn't look right.

I drop to my knees, gripping his shoulders. "Peeta! Peeta listen!" I shout, but his eyes have glazed over, and he slumps forward onto me.

In those next few moments, I don't really remember what happened. All I remember is the darkness.


	2. The Flask Of Forgetting

I wake up to the sterile smell of the hospital rooms in District 13. This place is disgusting, and it reminds me of too many bad things. All of them seeming to have to do with Peeta. Reaching up to rub the sleep from my eyes, I feel a sharp sting in my forearm. An IV is hastily shoved into my arm, and I frown, pinching the base of the needle and ripping it out. I bite down on my tongue to keep from hissing in pain. _Why so many precautions? _I think to myself, dropping the needle onto the ground. I look around, and see Peeta laying in the hospital bed next to me. His face is still sickly pale, and his hair tousled, like he'd been sleeping for days. He faces away from me, in the fetal position. I want to stand up and hug him, though he'd probably try to strangle me again, muddled by sleep.

I stare at the one-sided window, trying to make out the shapes passing by. I must be concentrating hard, because a groan from Peeta alarms me, and I jump, looking over to the blonde haired boy quickly, my heart thumping.

Peeta's wide-awake now, and he's staring at me. "So they dressed you up too?" He asks, gesturing to the hospital gown.

I didn't notice that until now. This makes me want to strip down right now. District 13 is a different, but scary place. I don't trust them, and the fact that they've put me into these clothes, I don't like it. It makes me feel apart of this place, something I definitely don't want. So I nod gruffly in response, not sure what to say.

My cheeks grow hot when I realize Peeta is slowly scanning my body with his eyes, as if I'll suddenly disappear. Clearing my throat, I meet his eyes, and he doesn't smile, he just stares at me, with blank blue eyes. I'm not sure what to ask him, though. Everything that I think of, it just sounds... stupid. Like a child repeating "Why?" With every answer. Fiddling with the scratchy cotton sheets, I look away from him, not sure what else to do. My mind is telling me to ask Peeta about yesterday, and if he _does_ remember us.

"Peeta-" I start, and he looks over at me. I'm not sure if I can even ask him, my voice feels like it's completely disappeared. Somehow I manage to continue.

"Do you remember-" I swallow hard, my mind screaming at me to not ask him. "-Us? Before the Capitol got to you?" I ask, and it's a wonder how I managed to finish my question.

Peeta looks lost. He folds his hands together, hanging limp in his lap. A piece of myself feels just like he looks. Lost and alone.

"I'm having flashbacks... All the time. Bits and pieces. Of us. Of the Games. It seems real, like it actually happened. Those other thoughts, what the Capitol did, it all seems fake now." Peeta says quickly, like he can't control it.

I open my mouth to respond, but I'm cut off by the thump of the heavy door that barricades us into the hospital room. It's Haymitch, stumbling in. He's obviously drunk, and he's clinging to the shiny wall of the room like a lifeline. It's a wonder how he snuck alcohol into 13, it's banned. But I wouldn't mind some of whatever he has right now.

"I 'eard you two passed out together. What were you doin'? Banging too hard?" Haymitch slurs, his head hanging to the side like a broken doll.

My eyes widen considerably, and Peeta looks insulted, as if Haymitch just punched him.

"How dare you-" Peeta starts, and I'm the one to cut him off.

"Haymitch, I think you should sit down." I say, and he wobbles over to my bed, sitting down like a pouting child. I resist the urge to hiss an expletive at him.

Peeta huffs, and sinks into his pillow like a corpse. I know he's upset, and I want to apologize, but Haymitch would just make an even worse mess.

"Can I have some of whatever you're drinking, Haymitch?" I ask, sitting up on the plastic coated bed.

The sandy-haired man reaches into his jacket, pulling out a sliver flask. I see about three more of the same flasks in there. He just wants to forget, and so do I. And forgetting is exactly the opposite of what Peeta wants to do. I feel torn, but grab for the flask anyways, twisting the cap open. The horrid smell leaks out, and I wrinkle my nose. Peeta looks over at me, and gives me a scathing look.

"What's wrong, bread boy?" Haymitch slurs, narrowing his eyes at Peeta, "Need some alcohol too?" He asks, holding his flask out to Peeta.

I roll my eyes, holding my flask in my lap. I take a small sip, and it's a wonder how I didn't throw up right then.

"No. I think memories are important. Unlike you." He hisses.

And I realize Peeta wasn't talking to Haymitch.

He was talking to me.

**AN:**

**Yaaay, a chapter! I'll keep trying to update every day, but you know, school. Don't forget to follow and review! I'm surprised at how many people have already followed. You guys are too awesome. ^-^**


	3. Hard To Ignore

We're moving to the Capitol now, to shoot propoganda. No one has dared say a word to me, and it must be because of the scowl that's imprinted on my face. Honestly, I've tried to smile, but it just feels forced.

As we continued to the Capitol, Finnick walked over, his face worried. I keep my eyes low, trying to avoid talking. But it's Finnick. He knows something is wrong. But the last words Peeta hissed are playing through my head over and over.

"No. I think memories are important. Unlike you."

Would Peeta really hold a grudge on me for a long time? Is our relationship over? No. Peeta is my lifeline. If he would ever die, I _know_ I would too. Does Peeta feel this same way anymore? I don't know. A small pang of hurt in my heart echoes, and my breath hitches. _No, Katniss. You won't cry. You can't cry. _I order myself, my eyes still glued to the ground.

Suddenly I feel a hand shaking my shoulder harshly. I look up to Finnick, who's frantic.

"Katniss! Katniss-" Finnick stops, taking in a deep breath.

I raise an eyebrow, and realize I had stopped walking a while ago. What happened? Had I just completely stopped, enveloped in my thoughts?

"-God damn, Katniss. You weren't answering me. I was standing here, shaking your shoulder, for almost ten minutes! Ten!" He says quickly, out of breath already.

For a moment, it's hard to swallow, and I think I am going to crumple to the ground. Somehow, I compose myself again, though I'm pretty sure my heart is shattering even more with every passing moment. Peeta hasn't talked to me in a about five hours, and those few hours of separation, it's driving me insane.

"I-I'm fine." I stutter out, clearing my throat.

The rest of the group is watching Finnick and I, some faces a cross between angry and shocked. My cheeks start to heat up, and my eyes quickly shift back to the ground. I can't help but look back up for a moment, and my eyes catch Peeta's. His eyes feel like they're boring into my soul, but I don't have the heart to look away. His blue orbs are like ice, chilling me to the bone. Peeta clenches his jaw, and it seems like he's straining himself to not look away.

Finally, Peeta looks away, and I feel something snap inside of me. I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding. Finnick had been watching Peeta and I carefully, and he seems frozen now, lost in his own thoughts.

I tap his shoulder, waiting for a response. "Finnick?" I ask hoarsely, choking out a cough.

Finnick shoves his hand into his poket, and produces a small tin, and takes my hand, pressing the cold metal box into my hand. _Sugar cubes._

"Take these. You'll need 'em." He says, his face etched with a sad smile.

I smile back, my expression the same as his.

Sad and mournful.

* * *

I can see the Capitol, the ugly, gaudy, and quite frankly, sadistic city that rules over us. This place will burn, and I'll be the one holding the matches. Cressida starts to prep everyone with makeup, and I shy away, making sure to keep my distance from the group.

Peeta must feel the same way as me.

I spot him sitting on a rock, not too far away from where I'm wandering. Maybe now is my chance to go and talk to him. I scuff my boot on the ground, biting the inside of my cheek. Would Peeta lash out? If only I could be brave enough to _not care_ about what Peeta would say or do. But I'm too afraid. I'm a coward. Just a meaningless coward.

Inside, deep down, I know my heart is screaming and kicking, telling me to go and pour my heart out to him. And yet my feet are glued to this spot.

I'm moving. My legs are pushing me toward Peeta like a desperate cry for help. Didn't I think this through?

_No._

Peeta doesn't even acknowledge my presence. He's staring blankly into the horizon, which the tall buildings of the Capitol ruin the sparkling view of the setting sun. Another reason why I hate this place.

"Peeta." I croak out, my voice cracking. He's going to ignore me. I can tell by the set of his jaw, and the way he's faced away from me.

A sudden flash of anger surges through me, and I clench my fists at my sides, becoming impatient.

"Peeta!" I shout, taking a few steps closer to him.

"I'm not going to stand here, and let you ignore me! We're either in this together, or not. You think I'm an idiot for drinking out of a flask. But your memories have been altered, and the truth is finally coming back. I think I'm allowed a little time to stop stressing about what's going on right now. I'm the one here, with the most scars-" Taking a deep breath, I stop. All of my words are gone. Peeta has turned to me, his face contorted in anger. He stands up, I want to flinch away, thinking he'll hit me.

"Katniss. What they did to me in the Capitol, it wasn't humane. You've never been repeatedly whipped, beaten, starved- I've gone through Hell and back!" He shouts back, his hands flying wildly in the air.

We're close together now, our foreheads almost touching. The sudden closeness surprises me.

"You never answered me, Peeta. Are we in this together, or are we not?" I ask quietly, my throat feeling dry from all the screaming.

Peeta's eyes flicker away for a moment, and I start to feel disappointed. _He's gone. He hates me, and he's gone._

And then we're kissing.

Our kiss, it's a mingle of passion, anger, and desperate need. Peeta's hands are all over me, and I'm doing the same. I can't think straight. The only thing that's floating through my mind now, is just _Peeta. _I've never kissed anyone with this kind of integrity, and- I like it. Peeta breaks away, and both our chests are heaving.

"I don't want to sound too cliché, but... Together forever?" He tries to hide a smile, but I'm smiling like a lovesick idiot.

"Together forever."


End file.
